


Craving Him

by nerdyglitterpatrol



Category: OC - Fandom
Genre: Frotting, Gay Sex, Happy Sex, Homosexual Sex, Incest, Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Shower Sex, Taboo, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27052672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdyglitterpatrol/pseuds/nerdyglitterpatrol
Summary: One shot-Warning: this work involves gay incestAfter hearing his brother’s quiet moments of sexual release night after night, morning after morning and observing his true self exhausted and melancholic after rigorous days of maintaining a popular facade, the boy’s younger brother’s love and admiration for his brother during this seemingly difficult moment in his life coalesce into a fervent desire to unite with his brother sexually to free him from stress and reconcile with his own long held sexual craving.Note this is a work of fiction, I in no way encourage these behaviors in real life
Relationships: Older brother younger brother
Kudos: 2





	Craving Him

Craving Him 

For as long as I can remember I’ve admired my older brother. He’s popular, good at sports and academics. He’s attractive and kind hearted. But there’s a side to him that I see that no one else does, his exhausted, melancholic side. The side that comes out when his public mask comes off, the stress of which he relieves mindlessly through sexual outlets.

My brother’s libido is unbelievable. 

Nearly every night and every morning several times I hear the soft wet pumping sound of him masterbating. I quietly wish he would moan out loud. I listen to his hand sliding up and down his hardened shaft, my brother a slave to his raging hormones. I want to ask him if it feels good.

He’ll likely masterbate several more times today. I wonder if he tries to touch himself during class. I wonder just how desperate he’s become. I touch myself as he masterbates. I imagine crawling down from the bunk bed we share, laying on top of him and sliding my own throbbing penis against his, taking us both in my hand, relishing for a moment the firm warmth we share, the heat between us, rolling us through my fingers slowly until I can’t bear it anymore and start pumping furiously until we both burst into a hot mess of cum, our white sticky shame mixing together into a cocktail of desperate craving. I imagine licking his cum off of his shaft, running my hands along his hips and thighs, massaging him, trying to coax his flaccid penis back into arousal.  _ You can’t be done yet,  _ I think. I want to feel him harden in my mouth, swirl my tongue around his shaft and flick my tongue against the sensitive lip of the tip of his penis. I imagine him moaning, encouraging me to tease him more while his penis throbs in my mouth. I want to take him deep and wrap him in the hot warmth of my throat. I want his back to arch, his hips to pump, his thighs to part and tremble. I want to see him wracked with pleasure because of me.

I remember his warmth and kindness to me growing up. He was the kind of brother any kid would wish to have. Friendly, doting, and patient. I learned so much from him, and even now I learn from him about these secret moments of his, the most intimate of moments and in some way, in my own perverse way I want to give back to him for his mentorship. I want to worship the body I’ve seen win soccer game after soccer game. The body I watched grow through the nightly baths we shared, the body even then I did my best to clean for him, deliberately even as a child with my bare hands covered in soap, so that I could touch directly my brother that I loved and admired so much. Though my hands sought to clean my intentions even then were tainted if only barely. The body that hovered just over me, the firm gentle hands that guided me through life’s small tasks: like tying my shoes or writing my name. I remember asking him to teach me to write his name like that, wanting his hands to guide me just a little bit longer, wanting to feel his hands create his name, and to be a part of that, fused into him in some way.

I want his hands to guide me to that secret throbbing part of him at the height of his most raw desires. I want to be a part of that moment too. I want to wrap my fingers around his shaft, I want to feel his hands on mine for a moment, encouraging me briefly, that he wants me to touch him too, before his hands tremble away with pleasure. I want to feel his skin move under my fingers, feel him throbbing and pulsing in my hands, feel his foreskin moving with my rhythmic motion, slide it up over the head of his penis, and then back down slowly around his tip, the sweet bright pink head of his penis slick with precum gushing from his hole. I want to lick the precum from his head and foreskin. 

I’ve lost myself completely in my fantasies now, I have no idea if I’m moaning or not, how much I’m giving away, how desperate I’ve become.

I continue fantasizing about us messy dripping in each other’s juices going into the shower together. I want to press my body against his under the water of the shower, I want to lather him in soap and feel his slick sudsy skin against mine. I want to harden against him and throb with him like that under the water. I want to take our dicks in my hand again and pump us into a near climax before slowing down and edging us both until we’re reduced into panting moaning mindless shells craving sex. I want to slide my fingers inside of him and coax him that way while frotting. I want to hear him moan. I want to kiss him, to suck on his tongue and swirl our tongues together. I want to get as close as I can to being one with him. I want it so fervently, so desperately. How could I ever want someone as much.

In reality my back is arched on the top bunk, I’m trembling, my penis grasped in my fist, the other pumping a finger in and out of my hole as I thoroughly edge myself, moaning loud enough for my brother to hear, panting his name, damning myself with the words “ I want you.” Tears stream down my face as I’m wracked with this undeniable pleasure and hopeless desire, tears of shame. I know it’s wrong, I know I’m wrong. I know…

I hear the bed creak, the undeniable sound of feet against the rungs of the ladder to the top bunk, I feel his weight on the bed. His cups my face in his hands, his thighs planted on either side of my own shamelessly parted thighs revealing my desperate mess of desire. “You sweet, disgusting little brother.” I hear his deep hushed voice like music to my delirious ears. “You’ve always been like this, haven’t you?” His lips caress mine and I moan, a short surprised sound. I moan uncontrollably, breathlessly between deep warm kisses. He presses his thick warm body against mine, his own hard slick cock pressing firmly against mine, dwarfing me somewhat, I feel small and pathetic compared to him, but quietly in some part of my mind I relish it.


End file.
